


The Desert Moon

by aliitvodeson



Series: Coin Comes Down Heads [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossover, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, love at first giggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliitvodeson/pseuds/aliitvodeson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Baron Moriarty of Hillwatch finally greets the new ambassador from Tyra, he gets something, or someone, else instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Desert Moon

Jim tapped his fingers against the armrests of his chair. The heat was stifling, no matter how good the view. The Great Southern Road spread out in front of him, the bright shimmer of the desert sun lighting up the horizon. The road itself was a path through the dunes, a darker stretch against the light colour of the surrounding countryside. The sky was a bright blue above Jim’s unshaded hair, scavenger birds turning their weary wings in simple circles.  
“Sir? The ambassador is here.”  
Jim rose to his feet, turning once his robes were straightened. The bright colour of his tunic stood out against everything around him, deep mahogany red cut in the latest fashion from Corus. His black hair, though long for court fashion, barely came to his earlobes.  
Jim watches as the group of men comes towards him. The Tyran ambassador and his guards, not a single woman among them. It’s a sign of how long Jim has spent in the Tortallan capital that he expects to see female warriors. Even the Mother’s Temple has armed priestesses.  
“My Lord Ambassador, welcome to Tortall. I am Baron Moriarty of Hillwatch.”  
“Yes, yes, I know who you are.” The man in the front of the group waved a set of long, pale fingers in front of his face. “Baron Moriarty, sent here to escort me to the capital and make sure that I don’t run into of your famous desert tribesmen. All very well.”  
Jim had enough composure not to scoff at this. All the court was abuzz with the rumours of the new Tyran ambassador. His depravities, his brashness, even the fact that he was the second in line for the Tyran throne and yet was being sent to Tortall instead. None of the rumours could measure up to the real man. Stuck up, Jim would have called him.  
One of the men in the party did not have Jim’s self control. He snickered, then giggled, turning bright red when Jim’s eyes went to him. Interesting.  
When Jim sat down at dinner later than night, it was next to the blond knight who had laughed at his ambassador’s antics. The ambassador himself was not present, having refused Jim’s offer of a meal in exchange for, “the privacy of my own thoughts”. Something about mending his mind palace.  
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Jim said over the pouring of the wine.  
“John Watson. Just passed my ordeal last month. Haven’t traveled much.”  
Over braised pork, Jim learns about John’s late start to his knight training.  
Over bread and cheese, he hears about John’s engagement in the Tortall-Tyra war when he was a squire.  
And over a desert of sugared dates, Jim hears about John’s request to join his childhood friend on virtual exile to Tortall.  
“There isn’t much for me back home. Sure I’m first born, but there still isn’t anything left to inherent. Mother would have protested more, but Harry was caught tumbling her maid just before Sherlock was appointed, so I’m well clear of that scandal now. She hopes I’ll meet some lady of Tortall who won’t mind that my sister is a honeylove.”  
They’re sitting on a stone outcropping, just beyond the line of tents and sentries. The camp moves tomorrow, after more than two weeks spent waiting under the sun. Jim’s skin will be well glad to be rid of the southern hills.  
“You should tell your sister to come join you, her and her lady love.”  
“Chorus can’t be any better.” John turns then, and the moon catches his eyes in a way that should be illegal. Diamonds in his pale skin. No, not diamonds, an ocean, tossed and turned by the wind and the rocks and it’s perfect. Jim can’t look away, must look away, can’t even breath to think of turning away from the glorious depths of those pupils.  
“I didn’t say she should come to Chorus.” Jim finds his words at last. John turns to look at him and the moon is still in his eyes. When he opens his mouth to say something, Jim pushes a single finger against the pale red of his lips. “Hush. There’s no need to decide now. We have all of the ride north, and time after that too.”  
He lets his hand fall down, but makes no further moves. Neither does John. The gods it seems, have been kind.


End file.
